


What Images Return

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, referenced Aredhel, referenced Celegorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after being released from Angband, Maeglin speaks with Turgon about his long absence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Images Return

They had barely entered the room before Turgon started questioning him. "It's been so long since the last time I saw you. Where have you been?" he asked, handing him a cup of red wine. Maeglin leaned slightly backward on the sofa, to sit more comfortably, and crossed one leg over the other. Maeglin was fairly sure he meant the question in a neutral, conversational way, but felt he still needed to be careful how he answered. He had only returned a few days ago, and though he knew the question would come up eventually, he didn't expect it this soon. When Turgon cornered him in the hallway this morning, and invited him up here tonight, calling it "a long-overdue chance to catch up with one another,"Maeglin had gone over his uncle's words, facial expressions, and gestures several times, until he was certain there was no sign of any suspicion and that it wasn't a trap, despite having already agreed to come. Turgon was always an easy person to read, even for someone as reserved as he was. For someone with a hidden kingdom, his uncle was a surprisingly terrible liar, he had always thought. 

Maeglin smiled reassuringly. "Nowhere new. The mines and the forge, mostly. I've just had a lot to work on. The past few months especially. " It was better to keep the lies vague, he knew. Specifics were too easily picked apart, especially when he had so little knowledge of anything that had gone on here recently. But the excuse for his absence could explain that well enough, at least.

Turgon nodded slightly. He seemed to believe it, although it had been far more than a few months.A few moments of silence passed uncomfortably, before Turgon straightened in his seat next to the sofa, now looking Maeglin in the eye, clearly preparing to say something. _What does he want from me? To be his nephew? His son, His friend? How many times will he try until he sees it's a pointless effort?_ Finally he spoke. "Maeglin, I did miss you. You do know it's not necessary to keep so far away from here? I don't wish to keep you away from your work. I know how much it means to you, but I do want you here, as selfish as that might be, for both your company and your counsel." _My counsel will not help you any more, if it ever did, and my company even less._

A thought of his uncle's future death, a death he himself had ensured, came unbidden into Maeglin's mind then, as vivid and stark as if it were happening right in this room. In his mind, he saw him dead and crushed, limbs smashed and twisted into wrong angles, the heavy broken stone above and under him, the blood pouring out and pooling below the dead body, staining the burnt stone underneath,  where the flames had long since dwindled to wisps of smoke. Morgoth's lieutenant had shown him this, shown him a glimpse of what he had just sold to them, not long before they sent him back here. Maeglin dug his fingernails into his palms to try to distract himself from the thought, and from the memory of Angband, focusing his eyes on the table before him. He grit his teeth and fought to keep his face blank. The hand that gripped the cup of wine was turning white and the other grabbed onto the sofa so hard he almost tore the fabric.

"Maeglin, are you well?" Turgon asked abruptly, seemingly concerned. "You don't look - "

"I am fine, uncle," he replied plainly, shrugging. He took a long sip of wine, his free hand tucked under his crossed knees.

"Before I forget - " Turgon stood from the table, leaving the room in quick steps. _What is he -_  

Maeglin didn't have time to finish the thought. Turgon had already returned, carrying something in his right hand, and placing it on the table. It was a small moonstone pendant shaped to look like a running deer, fastened to a thin silver chain. He thought he had lost it years ago. Other than his sword, it was the only thing from Nan Elmoth he had kept after his mother's death. As a child he had always liked deer, and there was a period of time when would draw them constantly.

* * *

For his birthday one year, Aredhel had given him the pendant, telling him a story from her own childhood about when she had first gotten it. When she had been his age at the time, she had also loved deer, and once, she followed one into the woods, though it soon ran off. But she was determined to find it and continued on, deeper into the woods. These woods were not dark like Nan Elmoth, his mother had told him, but bright and vibrant, and it wasn't uncommon to find other people in there as you walked or hunted in it.  After hours of chasing after the deer with no success, her clothes were torn and muddy, and she was tired. Sitting down against an oak tree, Aredhel rested, not meaning to fall asleep. Not long after that, she had been found by someone. Maeglin remembered her description of being roughly woken up by a cousin with silver hair and grey-green eyes, though she never mentioned a name, who had mocked her deer-chasing plan. He had made her return home, with him following her. "Even then, Tyel- ," she caught herself, "my cousin, was a brilliant liar," his mother had said, something in her voice not sounding right. This cousin had lied to her mother for her, claiming  "Irissë was with me. I thought she might prefer a day in the woods to sitting around doing nothing." Her mother had not taken that well. Aredhel hadn't seen him after that for several weeks, but when she did, he had given her the little moonstone deer, boasting that he had made it himself. He hadn't really made it, she told Maeglin a while later. "He couldn't have. Most likely he bought it somewhere, or had someone make it for him." 

"Anyway," she had said as she pressed the pendant into his hand, "I want you to keep it now, Lómion. " 

* * *

"I had wanted to return this to you. I know she gave it to you, before - " Turgon paused, unsubtly hiding the mistake by having another long sip of wine. "So I kept it here until I next saw you, though I had assumed I would see you far sooner than this." 

"Thank you, uncle. I appreciate it, more than you know." Maeglin's voice was careful and measured, though it still sounded tense and uncomfortable. "And in any case, I do plan to be around more often from now on. Though I have enjoyed my work in the mines, I am beginning to tire of it, so I plan to pursue other things. After a short rest, I will decide what to do next, though I have a few ideas already. " Maeglin smiled, a slight, innocent-looking smile that was neither deceptive or genuine.

Turgon returned the smile fondly. "I don't think you have ever been idle for long, Maeglin, though you have more than earned it, as everyone here knows. I am glad to have you here, whatever the cause might be." _Was it the wine or his uncle's words that were making his mind spin like this?_ Between the strong wine and the returned pendant and Turgon's closeness and unwelcome affection, he was starting to feel unsteady. He looked out the open window, counting the stars as an empty sort of distraction. If he wasn't careful, he might say - 

He needed to leave, immediately. "Uncle, I'm glad you asked me here tonight, but I am very tired. I should leave now, before I fall asleep on your sofa. I am sorry we didn't get a chance to talk more, but I suppose I'll be around more oftenanyway. And thank you for the pendant." He didn't wait for an answer, but was quickly heading toward the door.

If Turgon made any reply, he was already too far away to hear it.


End file.
